Roughing it 101

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD

In fairness, Norm was from Australia—you know, the “land down under,” as touted by the Men at Work Aussie band as the place where “women glow and men thunder”—so naturally, he was tough.  My young friend, Lewis “Clem” Clemens met him somewhere, they became good friends, and when Norm enthusiastically accepted Clem’s invitation to come to Briar Circle to try their “living off the land” skills on me, I was a little flattered.  I was told, “This will involve several days of wilderness camping.  We’ll be ‘roughing it.’”

BRIAR CIRCLE

I was all for it.  I was already living “off the grid,” and it had been years since I had done anything even remotely adventurous.  On short notice, I was ready to go!  I got out my light-weight sleeping bag, my good flash light, the bug repellent spray, the pocket lighter, my good hiking shoes, my made-in-India Swiss army knife and three-dozen other things essential for “living off the land” wilderness camping

I over-packed.  Early on the appointed morning, Clem and Norm arrived without much baggage at all.  Norm was a large, muscular fellow, friendly, with a genuine Aussie accent.  Lewis—fellow sasquatch hunter, muscular, but not like Norm, enthusiastic, energetic, sometimes irritating—was the same Clem.  Norm carried a large knife on his belt, Clem wore something similar, except he carried a hatchet.  Politely, but still with a little embarrassment to myself, they explained we were to “live entirely off the land taking only minimalist tools.” 

“Think of it like the second day after World War 3 starts,” Clem offered for comparison.

“Which could be any day, now mate!” Norm added.

“I see,” I said.  “So are you survivalists, or whar?”

“I’m not technically a survivalist,” Norm explained.  “I can be, if the need arises.  I believe a man should have the skills our human ancestors had in the caveman days.  Their survival skills can be learned, and besides, it’s fun.”

“Norm and I want to give classes on it,” Clem said.   “We want to eventually teach courses in colleges, like Roughing It 101.”

My hesitance perhaps prompted Norm’s response.  “Want a sampling, mate?  Have you had breakfast?”

“No, not yet,” I answered.

“Lew, let’s show th’ bloke how it’s done! Mate, did you know that many parts of a pine cone are edible?  And the plants around here are rich in edible roots and berries!  And I bet you’ve never licked a river!”

Before I could say I hadn’t, Clem called, “Watch this!” from the fire pit.  He had been gathering kindling and getting shavings from a pine knot with his hatchet.  Norm stepped over with his knife, and using it and a flint stone, had a fire going in a few minutes. Then he went fishing.

I would not have believed it, put there it was.  Norm waded out into Doris’ Pond, dipped under the water and came up with a catfish in each hand.  I guess my surprise was obvious, but the Aussie acted like it was no deal.  He got two more while Clem prepared the fish and put them on a flat rock placed in the middle of the fire to cook them—

But enough of this.  You know I did not go anywhere with them!  I knew right away I would not survive survivalist living, and I had no intention of being something for Clem and Norm to snack on when I did not make it.  Here, then, are my thoughts on Roughing It 101, Briar Circle approved:

You’re run out of toilet paper, and have to use paper towels, or worse, newspaper—that’s roughing it.

Torrential rains restrict your activities to the cabin—that’s roughing it.

Reception is “iffy”, so you have problems getting wifi, cellphone or regional radio stations—that’s roughing it.

You can get the regional radio stations—that’s roughing it.

The raccoons got the graham crackers you were going to use for s’mores—that’s roughing it.

You get the idea.  All this is roughing it mildly, but if bears get the sausage and eggs you were going to cook for breakfast, that brings it up a notch to roughing it roughly.  We may discuss this in the future in Roughing It 102.  We’ll see.

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